Behind the Shroud
by LadyArwen14
Summary: What really is behind the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries? Who, or what, makes the whispers that Harry and Luna heard? What fate truly awaits Sirius? Or do we make our own fate, even in death?
1. Prologue: Behind the Veil

_Warning_: Spoilers for anyone who hasn't _finished_ The Order of the Phoenix. Read at your own risk! 

_Summary_: What really is behind the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries? Who, or what, makes the whispers that Harry and Luna heard? What fate truly awaits Sirius? Or do we make our own fate, even in death?

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Sirius, or any of their associates. I'm merely borrowing them to assure myself that the horrible situation that the illustrious J.K.Rowlling created for them turns out the way it should (or at least the way I want it to!). 

**Behind the Shroud**

Prologue

Sirius landed with a thud.

          It seemed like he had been falling for an eternity. Just falling and falling. The ground, upon which he had landed, was firm, extremely firm to the point of being hard, and chilled, as if it were deep inside some underground cavern. His body met it as if it was made of the flat limestone with which the floor of Gringots was constructed. The impact was sharp and sudden but, in a way, comfortable. 

          "Funny," he thought, "the ground didn't look so far away when I fell…"

          But when had he fallen? Where had he fallen? Such thoughts clouded over in his mind. His head began to ache, whether from the effort of attempted remembrances or as a result of his fall he could not be sure.

          Slowly, tentatively, Sirius opened his eyes. The sight was nothing like what he had been expecting. Yet… what had he been expecting? The space above him was filled with infinite, filtering hues of gray. The shreds of nothingness looped, curved, and arched together and into each other in an endless, patternless succession. This analysis brought an abrupt flash of a massive, domed, granite ceiling into his head, but it was gone before he could even realize what it was he had imagined. The ever-shifting shades above him tempted him to simply close his eyes and go to sleep. The sight was soothing yet cold, an eerie kind of cold that chilled Sirius's bones. But the overwhelming weight of the colorless sky seemed to push down upon his mind, willing it to sink into oblivion. 

          With an effort, Sirius shrugged off the temptation. Some inexplicable instinct commanded that he rouse himself and explore his surroundings. He gradually raised his head. His headache had not subsided and began to pound with renewed vigor with every minuet movement he made. The pain threatened to force his intentions out of his mind, allowing him to sink back onto the hard ground. Defying every fiber in his body, Sirius steeled himself against the pain and prepared to embark upon his explorations.

          Gritting his teeth and exerting more willpower than he knew that he possessed, Sirius used his arms to hoist himself into a sitting position. The throbbing within his head and the aching of every muscle within his body dictated that he close his eyes during this procedure. Upon opening them again, Sirius gaped about him in wonderment. The landscape was what some ignorant child might expect of the Department of Mysteries. The transforming tints of gray were not restricted to the sky. They were gathered about him in any and all directions, obscuring his view. They created a veritable veil, concealing whatever existed in the world about him from his consciousness. 

          "This is like no place I have ever been before, of this I am certain." Sirius muttered to himself, for the sheer purpose of talking to someone. As the ironic humor and strange, cryptic language in that statement hit him, Sirius began to laugh.

          "How can this be like to no place I've ever been if I can't recall any place that I _have_ been?" He laughed. He continued to laugh for quite some time. 

_Author's Note_: A huge thank you to anyone who reads this! Please review and let me know what you think! How can I make my writing better? What's good and what's bad about my story? Any suggestions on the further development of my baby here? Let me know!!!


	2. Chapter 1: Explorations

_Warning_: Spoilers for anyone who hasn't _finished_ The Order of the Phoenix. Read at your own risk! 

_Summary_: What really is behind the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries? Who, or what, makes the whispers that Harry and Luna heard? What fate truly awaits Sirius? Or do we make our own fate, even in death?

_Disclaimer_: If I was the owner of Harry Potter, than there would be no need for this story to be written, because Sirius would never have… Not that he's really dead… (Yeah, just keep telling yourself that… He's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead…). Anyway, I do not own Harry Potter, Sirius, or anything of that sort, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling (Grr… the murdering… No, really, I love her, it's just that… I love Sirius more!). **Behind the Shroud**

Chapter 1: Explorations

          It was quiet, dead quiet. This was the first thing Sirius noticed when his bought of irrepressible mirth subsided.

          "That's funny," he thought to himself, "I thought that there would be whispers."   

          Once again, the thought struck him by surprise. On what basis could his mind contrive of such a thought? Regardless, there were no whispers, no humming, no breaths of wind, nothing. The air was utterly still; to Sirius it seemed almost a crime to stir it with his breath. Surely such perfection should not be broken or fractured by the likes of him, or any living creature. 

          The monochrome gray seemed to sap all color from the surrounding landscape, if there ever was any color there to sap. Sirius groaned, shattering the silence of wherever it is he was, and lurched himself to his feet. After straightening up, which seemed to take an extraordinary amount of time, he, once again, surveyed the space around him. From this new vantage point, Sirius was able to discern that the ground was not all as level as the portion he had landed upon. Innumerable lumps and rounded shapes were scattered across the terrain. The gray haze obscured any further definition of these silhouettes and prevented any long-range observations. 

          Following his instinctual urgings once again, Sirius began to walk. He carefully picked his way around the prone shapes littering the ground. He felt no such urgings to further investigate these objects, as opposed that which he felt towards investigating his surroundings. 

"What good would examining those random lumps do? It would just slow me down, just waist more time," he justified to himself. After the first few steps, Sirius could tell that this would be a futile effort. Even the odd shaped figures on the ground seemed to blend together in the haze, furthering Sirius's conviction not to take further interest in them. They were just another meaningless part of he landscape.

          "What's the point?" He growled loudly to himself, "Everything looks the same and with the fog… if it is fog, there's no way I can tell if I'm even moving in a straight line!"

          The sound of his frustration seemed to hang in the dry, yet somehow cloudy, air. Cringing slightly against the feeling, Sirius hastened his pace in attempts to escape it. 

          "This place is stranger than anything I've ever heard Dumbledore muttering about…" he likewise muttered to himself. His voice was quieter this time, less filled with emotion. He held his anger and confusion inside, so to avoid creating another atmosphere like to the one he had just escaped. He spoke to fill the oppressive silence but kept the volume of his voice in check so as not to shatter it. 

          "…Dumbly-dorfl??? Where did _that_ one come from? I must really be loosing it, sounds like pure gibberish to me now. I don't know what's gotten into me…" Sirius muttered to himself for a bit in attempts to justify his momentary confusion to himself. The murmuring also aided in filling the intense quite that seemed to press in on him from all sides. After a moment's pause in his random ramblings he commented; "It's like to going deaf from some persistent roar, only with the absence of the aforementioned roar… or from swimming too deeply under the surface of the lake… If that makes any sense… which it doesn't, of course. When did I ever swim in a lake? Nothing I say recently makes any sense. Perchance I might think with more clarity if there were but some noise for my subconscious to concentrate on, rather than this unending nothingness…Just silence… There has to be something more out there. Where there's life, there's sound… and I'm certainly alive. Therefore there must be sound. Of course there's sound, but I'm making it all!"

          The quiet, left as it was, was almost more than Sirius could bear. He began to whisper almost constantly to himself. He had the feeling that if he stopped talking and simply listened to nothing he would go mad. Little did he know how close to raving his ramblings had become. By attempting to wrest himself from the gaping jaws of insanity he was merely driving himself further and further in. 

          Sirius's eyes swept back and forth through the mist. They burned to observe some flicker of movement or sign of life. They were, instead, met with nothing, more monotonous shifting gray and distorted lumps upon the ground. 

          "It seems as if my eyes should be burning from all the apparent dust hanging in the air. Funny how they feels as if this gray cloud-like material were as insubstantial as air."

          Sirius violently shook his head, trying to clear it form whatever alien impulse had caused him to speak in such a cryptic manner. Lines and phrases from ancient books and manuscripts filtered through his head.

          "Ancient books and manuscripts?…" 

          The quotes slipped away before Sirius's mind could grasp them. Where they had come from, from what corner of his mind they had been unburied; he could not begin to comprehend. 

          "Surely I have some knowledge pertaining to such things, otherwise, how could my mind possibly contrive of such things in such a spontaneous matter? I'm speaking in tongues again! Why do I suddenly have such a tendency towards such elevated language? Such archaic language… Or have I always spoken as such? If I utter the word 'such' again I'm going to throttle myself!"

          Emotion had crept back into his voice. The gray around Sirius veritably became alive with the irritation that his voice had portrayed. Feeling smothered by the amplified magnitude of the emotion hovering around him, Sirius quickened his pace once more. When he was, again, in a neutral atmosphere he allowed himself to slow down and gave some time over for consideration. 

          "Funny how only words as dead as this place itself maintain the peace in the air. Funny, or morbidly ironic…"

          Pleased to find that his sense of humor had not left him and not pausing to take the time to wonder where he had acquired it in the first place, Sirius continued with his situational analysis. 

          "And the thoughts and comments that come naturally to my mouth are not those that I would willingly choose to speak. Yet, it is such comments that do not cloud my mind. When I fight the impulses, which cause them, I must also fight a renewed compulsion to lie myself down and explore no more. Logic states that I cling to such freedom granting graces, restricted as they may be…"

          Sirius continued to mumble like statements to himself as he wandered. This acceptance brought him a satisfying feeling of peace.

          "I don't need to fight it anymore… if only I knew what 'it' was… not that it matters anymore…"


	3. Chapter 2: Whisperings and Wanderings

_Warning_: Spoilers for anyone who hasn't _finished_ The Order of the Phoenix. Read at your own risk! 

_Summary_: What really is behind the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries? Who, or what, makes the whispers that Harry and Luna heard? What fate truly awaits Sirius? Or do we make our own fate, even in death?

_Disclaimer_: What a very different world it would be if I owned Harry Potter and all of his numerous friends! Just think of the possibilities… While I indulge my slightly eccentric fantasies, any and all readers out there should know that, in all truthfulness, I do not own Harry Potter, Sirius, or anything from those addicting books!

Behind the Shroud 

Chapter 2: Wanderings and Whisperings

          "…All is enclosed in a gray veil, covering my eyes. It's as if I were some aged man whose sight was failing him. Am I aged? For certain, I feel young and fresh, rather than old and decrepit. Perhaps it is just mine eyes that are failing me… If I could look into mine eyes, what would I behold? Methinks I fancy blue eyes… for no particular reason. But what reason do I have to expect eyes of mine to be of such a color? Would logic not state that they would be gray, like to everything else in this dank and hazy place?…"

          Sirius whispered. His whispers took on the form and topic of any thought that might chance across his mind. The whispers were seemingly endless. They were pointless, of this, at least, he was aware. The only thing that mattered was that they never stopped. As random as his stream of conscious was, it served the purpose of masking the silence with the noise of his own thoughts. 

          However, Sirius's stream of conscious was neither as random nor as meaningless as it seemed. No matter in what direction his mind shifted and wandered, it always found its way back to the atmosphere. He would repetitively describe his surroundings to himself. Whenever a comment pertaining to the "hazy shroud" or the "misty gray veil" passed his lips, Sirius would wake a bit from his reverie. The dullness his awareness had taken on would be momentarily shaken off to ponder these words. 

          "It's only natural for me to feel the need to analyze my surroundings. Why, that very same instinct was what caused me to shake off the otherwise overwhelming compulsion to sleep and rouse myself for this expedition of exploration. The only problem seems to be that there's not much to explore or analyze. Everyplace looks alike to everyplace else. Therefore, my subconscious urgings are continually backed into the same corner. It is nothing more than this…"

          And so Sirius shrugged his momentary awakedness off. He could find no answers in the instant or two of mental clarity such thoughts evoked. His frustration could almost be detected before his psychological acuity was, once again, dulled into subjugation by the fog. 

          On he wandered, on and on. Just whispering and wandering. He knew not how much time had passed. Oft times it seemed to him that he had been traveling for an eternity. During such times he had to fight off the returning desire to lie himself down among the lumps and become as one of them. Completely immobile. Other times it seemed as if he could turn around and still be able to make out the patch of earth he had landed upon, just moments before. Time was beginning to loose its meaning and, indeed, its very purpose. 

          "The sheer monotony of this place could be maddening. Surely there must be something else out there to hear, to see… The fog shimmers so, yet without any light to make it sparkle. Its shifting hues are almost like unimaginably thin shreds of fabric.

          "Look there," he commented. His comment was of the kind that should have been filled with excitement, if such feelings were permitted. "The shape that shred of mist takes on looks as if it was truly a figure moving in the distance. If only it was…" The longing Sirius felt deep inside penetrated into his voice slightly.

          Horrified at what he had just allowed himself to do, Sirius snapped his mouth shut and hurried forward. "I may as well proceed in the direction of my imaginary figure… maybe I really am going mad…" He harshly insisted to himself that the "figure" was naught but a manifestation of his lonely subconscious. Yet, he could not quell all potential hope from his soul. 

          "…But what am I doing here if not searching for some place or person? And if I am following my own ghosts, it'll do me no more harm than my previous mindless wanderings…"

          He muttered and wandered again. But quicker this time, with more of a purpose. Edging around mounds in the uneven ground, eyes rapidly darting back and fourth, Sirius journeyed on. 

* * * * * * *

          It was not long before Sirius glanced another figure, shambling off into the distance. With a slight shift in direction, he hurried onward. His goal was set now. He would catch one of the moving images, if there truly were anything to catch, and see what there was to behold.

          "Fore what other purpose do I have? What else is there? Just nothingness… What mysteries does this fog conceal," he murmured idly. "If there is something to be found out there, surely I will happen across it. However, in the mean time, I will follow my inexplicable specters through the haze… to what end I cannot be sure… But it will be something, rather than the nothing of what would be the sky…"

          A pause in his incessant babble brought an unfamiliar spectacle to his ears, sound. A faint humming sound. 

          "Finally, something more to fill the silence…"

          But as he spoke the slight noise faded away, as if it but were on of the innumerable shreds of gray.

          "I swear there was something… I have been whiteness to enough silence to know when that silence is broken. Surly, this must be a sign that I am headed in the proper direction."

          Sirius spoke in his accustomed monotone, but he could feel the ever so faint sensation of excitement bubbling up inside of him. The realization that he could still feel such emotions came as a bit of a shock, albeit a pleasant one. Nevertheless, his momentary pause in his continual dialogue left his ears and mind burning for substance. For fear that some of the emotion he had so recently felt would penetrate into his voice, Sirius forced such thoughts out of his head. 

          "Assuredly, that 'figment of my imagination' was as substantial as a stone," Sirius stated as yet another figure flitted into his line of vision. Before it disappeared once more, Sirius caught the sound of the humming again, only this time more distinctly. 

          "It has almost a hiss to it, that sound. Quite a coincidence," Sirius noted without emotion, "how the noise appeared along with the figure and disappeared just as quickly. There is a fine line between coincidence and convenience. Has that line just been crossed? One would be a fool, indeed, not to associate the two spectacles with one another. Are the figures responsible for the hissing? I shall, assuredly, discover the answers for all my inquiries in due time."

          Time was one of the many things Sirius apparently had an abundance of, along with things to say, drive to forge onward, and thoughts that he couldn't quite grasp. He whispered and rambled. He walked. He shuffled. He trudged. All in accordance to whatever thought he might be entertaining in his current mumblings. He noticed, in passing, that his voice was becoming dry and raspy.

          "…not that it matters, I need to keep on talking, least I go mad. It would not do for me to go raving about the place; a crazed lunatic. Still, I wonder how long it has been since I have had a proper drink."

          The appearance of the ghostly figures was becoming more common now, as were the hissing and humming. Sirius thought, upon several occasions, that if he had just stretched out his hand he could have grasped whatever it was. But, of course, his arms remained motionless at his sides. They had not been put into action since their initial task of hoisting their owner into a sitting position. Clearly, if any discovery was going to be made, he would have to stumble onto it. And that's just what he did. 

* * * * * * *

          Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw the closest image yet. With an uncharacteristically speedy motion, he twisted himself around in order to pursue this new target. However, his continually monotonous movement for such an extended period of time had taken its toll. Sirius stumbled over one of the immobile shapes on the ground that he had taken such care to avoid. As he began to fall, Sirius wondered at how surprisingly soft the lump had been, in comparison to the remarkably firm ground. But these thoughts were instantly erased from his mind when Sirius's fall was cut short. 

          Apparently the last figure he had seen was much closer than it had initially appeared to be. Sirius crashed into the upright body of a man. The man stumbled backward slightly, regained his balance, and then paused to shake off the blow. As Sirius resituated himself on his own two feet he assessed his "savior".

          The man was middle aged, with sand blond hair and hazel eyes. He was hunched slightly forward with his arms hanging limply by his sides. He was dressed in gray, tattered robes that seemed to blend in with his surroundings, aiding to his "spectral" quality, when seen from afar. It was his face, however, that truly caught Sirius's attention. The man's eyes were glazed over and his expression was blank, uncomprehending. He stared straight forward without really seeing and seemed to be speaking to himself, calming himself down after the shocking encounter. Once he was sufficiently settled, the hazel-eyed man resumed his forward shuffling without giving Sirius so much as a sideways glance. 

          Sirius was horrified. 

          "What sort of a creature was that man?" It was all he could do to keep the shock out of his voice. "What type of conditions could ever reduce a person to that level?"

          Sirius shook himself. He felt dirty for having touched something so vile. 

          In efforts to rid his mind of such contemptuous thoughts, Sirius began to speak to himself in even tones. "At least I now know the source of the hissings.  That… thing was whispering to itself…"

          Sirius had met one of the Whispering Wanderers. 

_Author's Note:_ I would just like to thank catz, my lovely anonymous reviewer, and anyone else who may have read my fic. I admit that it _is_ a tad bit strange, or obscure, or even disturbed, but then again, so am I! Please read, enjoy, tell me what you think, tell me how crazy I am, tell me how to fix any glaring or subtle mistakes, just talk to me! I get lonely quickly… I really should get myself a babysitter or something to help me pass the time… J


	4. Chapter 3: The Whispering Wanderers

_Warning_: Spoilers for anyone who hasn't _finished_ The Order of the Phoenix. Read at your own risk! 

_Summary_: What really is behind the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries? Who, or what, makes the whispers that Harry and Luna heard? What fate truly awaits Sirius? Or do we make our own fate, even in death?

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Sirius, I do not own Harry Potter, I do not own publication rights, I do not own movie rights, I do not own very much of anything… But I do own the Whispering Wanderers… and I'm not quite sure if that's something to be very proud of at all… Enjoy!

Behind the Shroud 

Chapter 3: The Whispering Wanderers

          Sirius stared vapidly at the receding back of the Whispering Wanderer. It moved slowly, but purposefully, in a specific direction. But what caught Sirius's eye, in ways that made him shudder with an inexplicable sensation of déjà vu, was that the Wanderer carefully and meticulously maneuvered its way around and in-between the random assortment of lumps on the ground. 

          "He trudges so… as if his energy and body were just before the point of utter collapse. It looks as if his entire purpose was but to walk towards some unknown and unattainable point for all eternity."

          Sirius continued to stare at the rapidly fading, yet slowly moving, silhouette of the Wanderer before him. 

          "I wonder if he is aware of his destination or if he is as lost as I…" Sirius shook his head in revolution. "Surely I have nothing in common with such a hideous, hopeless wretch!"

          Just as quickly as he had been struck into his reverie by his unexpected encounter, Sirius snapped back into action. 

          "I must keep moving. Standing and staring after some unknown wanderer will, without doubt, accomplish nothing. There is yet much that is left unseen… my eyes shall be ever watchful."

          With that monotone declaration of purpose made, Sirius lurched forward. After a few steps he regained his habitual, shuffling gate. After a few more steps he realized that he was unintentionally following the same path taken by the Wanderer, now merely a steady sliver of dark gray among the ever-sifting colorless spectrum. 

          "Why shouldn't I follow it? Who knows when I shall happen across another living creature again? It could potentially be folly to forge ahead in some random direction without any form of guidance or bearing. In addition, reason would have it that a living being, which holds the appearance of one who has been accustomed to this dank atmosphere for quite some time, would eventually find its way to further points of importance… And it did seem fairly sure of the direction in which it wished to travel…"

          These justifications eased Sirius's protesting mind. The revulsion he initially and instinctively felt towards the Wanderer remained just as strong. However, his need for guidance and purpose was stronger still. So Sirius followed, his pace matching that of his "guide". 

          "The distant murmurings of that… man's whisperings are remarkably soothing to my ears… even more so than these ramblings of my own. It seems almost melodic in its fashion. If only the music was made by something other than that… creature…"

          Sirius continued to follow the Whispering Wanderer, whispering his thoughts continually to himself in much the same manner. If a rational person ever were to overhear him, he surely would be thought to be raving. He meandered onward, rasping to himself and, at the same time, straining his ears to hear the murmur of the Wanderer before him. 

          In time, other figures became visible through the haze. The murmuring became a steady drone. The creatures never neared each other; they held their distance to assure that any other living being remained obscured by the gray. 

          "The persistent buzzing is certainly a refreshing change. Alas, that I am sure that those shadowy beings in the distance are naught but more creatures like to the one I earlier confronted."

          The humming rang in Sirius's ears. It was growing stronger, steadier, the further he traveled. Ever and anon, Sirius would notice a figure drifting a might too near for his comfort. Upon such realization he would immediately make the appropriate course corrections so to assure that the Whispering Wanderer would remain at a peaceful, ambiguous distance. 

          "…It may simply be my imagination, but it seems as if those wanderers were attempting to stay as far from me as I from them. Why, that is ridiculous. I saw the look in that man's eyes… if one could go so far as to call him a man, and there was no more recognition of his surroundings in them as there would be in a dead man's eyes. At least none of them have come close enough for me to catch another bone chilling glance…"

          Sirius would constantly speak to himself, as he had become accustomed to doing, to fill the silence. Yet the silence was no longer so pristine, nor even was it truly silence any more. If he concentrated on his own rambling voice for too long, he would begin to ache for the humming, so to assure himself that there was something, anything, more out there. But if a similar amount of time eclipsed without his thoughts being manifested into noise, as meaningless as that noise might be, his head would begin to pound with the volume of built-up suppressed expression. The harsh buzzing also accompanied recollections of Sirius's troubling encounter. The dirty, contaminated feeling such memories evoked seemed to attach themselves onto every single hazy figure. 

          "…With the figures come the sound… and, by the same token, with the figures goes the sound. I have, apparently, developed such an extreme attachment to the incessant rasping that I cannot willingly leave it behind. Yet their sources fill me with such revulsion that I cannot stand to be near them… My instincts are tearing my mind in two."

          Sirius did not know just how accurate his idle thoughts had been. Such was the curse of the Whispering Wanderers, in the lands behind and within the Veil of Death. The madness, first invoked by the deathly silence and stillness of the atmosphere, was reshaped, strengthened, and deepened by the direct contradiction of the two most basic demands placed upon them: the need for companionship and the need for security. A Wanderer has no need for rest, no need for nourishment, no need for water. There needs are purely psychological, and their subconscious is in a continual state of destruction and tumult. 

          The initial silence wets the developing Wanderer's need for companionship. In time, the whisperings come to represent that companionship. However, the Wanderer requires a feeling of peace and safety, the same feeling that is threatened at the sight of other Wanderers. This is what the Whispering Wanderers are; a walking contradiction. The very thing that completes their first need shatters their second. The fate of a Whispering Wanderer is nothing short of an eternity of tormented, incomplete madness. 

          "…Perhaps if I simply pretend that they are not there… If I convince myself that they are nothing more than yet another wisp of fog, then I may be content… at least until I discover whatever it is that I am looking for. I will simply look through them… They will not be there… They will not even exist…"

          And so Sirius Black became a Whispering Wanderer. 

_Author's Note_: I am having soooo much fun writing this story… it's ridiculous! I actually had a dream about it… this is probably getting to the unhealthy level… But I would enjoy it infinitely more so if I could have other people enjoying it along with me. If anyone happens across my little story here, please leave a review and let me know that you read it and loved/hated/were horribly confused by it… anything! 


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